


A General and his Engineer

by Startabi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Armitage Hux Has Feelings, Betrayal, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Issues, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Force-Sensitive Reader, Hux Has No Chill, Love, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Sarcasm, Slow Burn, The Dark Side of the Force, reader - Freeform, tragic background
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-06 17:35:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12215589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Startabi/pseuds/Startabi
Summary: Honestly, you didn't expect anything like making bombs and modifying blasters would land you in trouble--but surprise, surprise it did. After being betrayed by a friend, you are whisked away and held captive on the Finalizer until a certain General offers you a job aboard it.You agree and are swept up in feelings you never wanted and get chance encounters with people who will change your life forever...





	1. Friends Suck

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'alllllll, hope you like it! Ideas, criticism, etc., is always welcome

"Aw, bantha balls."

"I swear, if one of your shitty inventions blow up again, I  _will_  gut you this time."

An almost maniacal laugh left you as you heard your friend's muffled voice through the small shop she owned. Of course you never intentionally blew up anything of hers but when working with dangerous explosives and malfunctioning blasters, accidents were bound to happen. Lucky for her, you just happened to drop a loose screw instead of a bomb today.

"They aren't shitty!" You hollered back to your friend. "And besides, the last time one of my  _ingenious_  inventions exploded was, like, a month ago!"

"IT BLEW UP HALF OF THE FUCKING STORE, Y/N!!"

You rolled your eyes and refocused your attention on the blaster in front of you. Though, now it looked like a bunch of random useless parts spread out on the table, useless and forgotten. But that's what you did for a living; you took things apart and put them back together with a feature that made it better and one of a kind.

Oh, and bombs that could blow up a small moon.

Of course the incident last month was due to a faulty wire that you bought from a Toydarian in the markets. Granted, you should have checked before you bought it, but you only made so much money and it  _was_  the only copper wire you could find at the markets that day.

"At least I fixed it!" You chuckled, fusing two wires together.

Marisa, your friend, shouted something one should probably never repeat. You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose once you heard her angry stomps towards your little workshop in the back of her spice store.

The door flung open and you winced, preparing yourself for the worse.

Her vicious brown eyes glared at you with enough venom to kill a small creature, her mouth pressed in a thin, tight line. You swore you could feel her anger surge around you in waves as her manicured nails dug into the flesh of her clenching palms.

You flashed her a cheeky smile, "Heyyy..."

Marisa narrowed her eyes even further until they were practically closed and raised a finger, angrily pointing at you.

"If I so much as  _hear_  a sound from one of your  _shitty_  creations, I'm tossing you out. For good this time."

"Geez, all right." You grumbled, putting your hands up in surrender.

Marisa huffed and turned on her high heels, her brown hair flicking behind her as she slammed the door, making the shelves shake.

You muttered under your breath and tucked a stray hair behind your ear.

It wasn't like you wanted to blow up her store. And besides, mistakes happen, you were hardly the culprit here. Marisa  _was_  the one who let you work here in the first place.

You doubted she would actually throw you out like she said.

Right...?

You shrugged off the threat and sighed. You leaned back in your chair and spun around slowly a few times, staring at the cracked ceiling, but the thoughts wouldn't leave.

_She couldn't...Marisa isn't like that...She knows if she tossed me out I'd be good as dead..._

You groaned and rubbed your eyes. Whatever. If she kicked you out, she kicked you out. No use dwelling on the inevitable.

Besides...no one would come looking for you here on Bakura...

You moved out here for a reason.

 It the perfect hideout. No one knew you and you knew no one. You were just another face in the passing crowd.

Except for those who  _did_  happen to know who you were. But those certain people were looking for something you could happily supply in exchange for credits.

You exhaled loudly and rubbed your tired eyes again. Speaking of those certain people, you owed one of them an order of specially made blasters for their crew. Resistance fighters you assumed after meeting with the captain who placed the order a week ago. You were curious of course, but it was none of your business to inquire about the dealings of others who paid you.

You just finished the first one out of ten and you could already feel the taxation it had on your energy. Plus, being cooped up in this small back room that smelled of oil and metal did you no good.

You grunted as you stood from your spinney chair--joints cracking as you hobbled over to your bed on stiff legs. Your fingers, stained with grease, snatched your small bag and your old coat before flinging open the door and skipping down the hallway towards the front of Marisa's store. 

Marisa scowled when you appeared next to her. "So the hermit decided to leave her room for once. Oh goodie."

You snorted and ignored the snarky comment. You set your ratty old bag on the floor and stuffed your arms through your coat sleeves. "I'm going out for a bit. Want anything?"

Marisa shook her head and continued to shelve the little vials of fresh spices, "No."

You shrugged and turned on your heel towards the rounded door. Before your hand touched the brass doorknob, Marisa stopped you, her hand on her hip as you peered over your shoulder.

"I do actually want something," she said. "Apples. I want to make a pie later."

You grinned.

You  _loved_  apple pie and you swore Marisa made the best pies in the galaxy. You could practically taste the sugar on your tongue now. You happily agreed.

You licked your lips and wrenched open the door, eager to get a hold of some apples so you could race back here as fast as your feet could carry you. You waved over your shoulder and stepped onto the wooden platform streaked with mud from the recent storms and hopped over the railing to join the bustle of the crowd a block away.

It was cloudy outside and a bit chilly, but it didn't dampen the colorful tents meant to catch people's eyes. Various smells drifted around you as you scurried along the paved road, tempting you to take a look at all the food presented at the stalls. You would have stopped and filled your stomach on a normal day, but the craving for apple pie consumed your thoughts so you ignored your growling stomach.

Merchants shouted out their products to you as you weaved through the dense crowd, but your eyes were set on the little fruit stall near the end of the line of merchant booths.

"'Scuse me," you mumbled, squeezing through two Verpines that swore at you as you passed. You rolled your eyes and carried on.

Finally, after nearly being squashed by hoards of people, you managed to reach your destination and smiled at the fruit stall owner who sat upon a rickety stool with a long wooden pipe between his chapped lips.

"Kyp!"

The older man squinted at you and gave you a crooked grin as he gazed upon your own smiling features.

"Ah! Y/N L/N! Finally came to visit, have we?"

"Oh, don't be like that Kyp." You huffed. "You know how busy I am."

Kyp nodded, his grey hair that came down to his shoulders bobbing at the movement, "Yes, yes, or course I know--but would it kill ya to visit more often?"

You grumbled out a pathetic excuse and crossed your arms, a tint of red painting your cheeks. Kyp chuckled and stood from his stool, groaning as his stiff limbs were set in motion. His wrinkled eye gave you a wink and beckoned you closer.

You raised an eyebrow but listened to the old fool.

"Closer, closer." He hummed, waving you over until you were leaning over the counter, careful to avoid the piled fruit beside you.

He leaned forward too, near enough to your ear that you could feel his tabaco scented breath grazing your skin.

"They're on your trail, Y/N."

A sharp prick of dread pierced your stomach. "What?"

Kyp gave you an empathetic stare and raised his pipe to his lips, chewing on the blackened wood.

You warily glanced over your shoulder, your eyes grazing the crowd for any unwanted attention then whipped back around to Kyp. You leaned over the counter and snatched his sleeve.

" _Who?_ " You hissed. "Tell me, Kyp."

The man sighed and brushed off your hand that held his sleeve in a death grip. His eyes also flicked around the crowd, then back to you.

"This conversation would be best continued inside, I think." He said in a hushed tone. "Follow me."

You scrambled around the corner of the booth eager to follow Kyp inside the building behind the stall. After carefully putting the fruit away in wooden crates, he pushed aside the thick tapestry and led you to the little kitchen inside.

Kyp lit the small lamp on the table and heaved a sigh as he sat down on a kitchen chair. He gestured to the other chair, inviting you to sit and reached inside his coat pocket. He pulled out a tiny tin of tobacco and stuffed some of the leaves inside the pipe. With a match he lit the pipe and inhaled deeply then exhaled, blue smoke curling out of his nose and lips.

Nervous energy surged through you as the man before you stayed silent, puffing on his pipe. If Kyp meant what he said, you were in deep shit. If First Order troops were to find you...

You suppressed a shudder.

You didn't want to think about what they'd do to you if they found out you were here on Bakura.

"Would you like some tea, dear?"

Kyp's question yanked you from your thoughts and you gave him a polite smile. "No thanks."

He hummed. "Alright."

"Kyp-"

"I know you must have some questions, but before I continue, you mustn't make a  dramatic decision after what I tell you." He said, raising a bushy grey brow.

You brows furrowed slightly, but you nodded.

"Very well," he sighed. "This past week I've heard talk about First Order spies infiltrating Bakura, and your little stunt the past month definitely raised some questions."

You sucked in a breath and dug your fingernails into the hard bone of your knees.

This was not good news. 

"They know who you are, y/n l/n." Kyp sighed. "And I don't think they're too happy about their stolen merchandise."

You froze in horror. How did they find you? You were so careful! You made sure you covered you tracks.

"I'm leaving," You near shouted, "If what you say is true, I-I can't stay here any longer."

Kyp nodded solemnly and stood as well, taking a puff of his pipe. "No, you can't. But making a hasty getaway will land you in a deeper pile of crap than you already are in now."

You ran a hand through your hair, "I was so careful..."

Kyp hobbled over and placed a withered hand over your slumped shoulder. He gave it a squeeze and gave you an empathetic smile that didn't help in the slightest.

"I'm sorry, dear one. It's hard to become invisible with the kind of work you do."

"Yeah..." you nodded. "I'm surprised I've made it this far without getting shot."

Kyp chuckled and shook his head, leading you out of his little house and back into the streets.

"Did you have a reason for coming, dear?"

You nodded and gathered the amount of apples you needed from his stand, "Marisa is making a pie..."

"Is she?" Kyp hummed, accepting the credits you owed. "Tell that girl to come by and bring me some. I heard its to die for."

You laughed and agreed, stuffing the apples into your bag. You avoided mentioning to Kyp that he wouldn't get his pie anytime soon. Marisa would never come down these streets--she always made  _you_  shop and run errands for her.

"Well...Thanks, Kyp," you said. "I'll see ya around."

"Be safe, dear!" He called as you wandered down the crowded streets. "May the Force be with you..."

=+=+=+=

"I'm leaving."

"You're what?!" Marisa coughed, dropping her fork.

You winced at the loud clatter and shoveled a bite of pie into your mouth. 

"Y/N L/N. Explain," she growled, glaring fiercely at you. 

Your mouth went dry once you swallowed. 

"I'm--uh...leaving?" 

"Yeah I got that," she snarled. "I'm asking why!"

"Oh," you chuckled nervously, scratching your chin. "Well...the First Order may or may not know where I am..." 

Marisa deadpanned. 

You gulped and flashed her a wobbly grin, unsure what she felt. You half wondered if she'd kick you out or hand you over to the First Order herself. You guessed the latter--no way in Hell would Marisa sacrifice her spice store for a lowlife like yourself. 

She remained silent, and smoothed out her blouse with controlled rage--the type of anger you had only witnessed on one occasion almost two years ago. You nearly died that day...

"So," she breathed, even and sharp. "What you're telling me is that, First Order officials know where you are? Do you know what that means for me?"

"Free ice cream?" You joked, flinching as Marisa's lip curled in distaste. You always had a big mouth. 

" _No,_ you idiot," she hissed. "It  _means_  they know who I am and that means I'll be labeled as an enemy, which leads to me losing the store and possibly killed!"

"Oh."

"Oh? OH?" The woman repeated, slamming her hands against the table as she stood. "Is that all you can say? Oh?" 

"Marisa-"

"No. I've had enough of your shit, Y/N. It's time for you to leave."

"Wait, but-"

"Enough, Y/N!" She fumed, pointing a slender finger at you. "I'm going on a walk and if you're still here by the time I get back, I'll kill you." 

The brunette gave you one last glower before whipping around and heading towards the door. She snatched her jacket and wrenched open the door, shaking the whole building as she slammed it shut. 

You swore out loud once she left and stalked to your room. How could she do that to you? She  _knew_  what you did for a living--you told her the first day you showed up on her doorstep--and she  _let_  you stay. It was hardly your fault that the First Order knew where you were now. Stars! How could she be so blind!

You cursed her and punched the wall to your right, ignoring your stinging knuckles. They were probably bleeding, but that was far from your mind. You needed to get your shit together and clear out. Yet, the only problem with that was that you had too  _much_  shit to clear out and pack into your ship in an hour or two. 

You weren't even sure if your beat up ship could even handle the amount of equipment you have. It was easy at first to carry all your junk from one place to another, but now it was impossible. 

"Fuck my life," you sighed, witnessing the horror of your room. 

You hoped Marisa was kind enough to let you stay an extra hour...

=+=+=+=+

You winced in pain as you hauled up the heaviest box of your newly modified blaster pistols that were a bitch to make. Some asshole in the Republic requested an order that you had yet to ship off. 

You groaned as you boarded your ship and slid the box up against the countless others, hoping that all of your weapon had their safety on. You weren't keen on getting shot in the head by your own guns. 

You sighed in annoyance as rain began to patter against the roof of your ship. This day had become officially the worst day of your life. 

"Y/N?"

You jumped and pulled out your blaster as the disembodied voice of Marisa sounded behind you. You glared at her and refused to lower your gun as she stepped into your vessel--her hands raised. 

"Get out, Marisa," you said, narrowing your eyes in suspicion at the tall woman. "You told me to leave so I'm leaving." 

She rolled her eyes and lowered her hands as if she weren't bothered in the slightest by your blaster aimed at her forehead. 

"I came to apologize," she huffed, crossing her arms over her thin frame. "You don't have to leave tonight. You can go in the morning or whatever." 

You raised a brow and slowly lowered your blaster, "So, you won't kill me?"

"No you fucking-," she stopped herself and sucked in a breath, rephrasing her words. "No. You're my friend."

You scoffed and holstered your blaster, "We haven't been friends for a long time, Marisa."

She shrugged and followed your shorter self as you hopped out of your ship, ignoring the mud that clung to your boots. You pushed through the back door and grabbed another box from the back hall and glared at Marisa who blocked your way. 

"Y/N, please," she said, faking a smile. "Just stay one more night, it's already late and by the time you get all these boxes in your ship, it'll be morning." 

She had a point, but it still didn't fix what she said earlier. You sighed and studied her face that formed an easy smile but hid one of deceit. Deep down you knew she was up to something--but your soft heart convinced you otherwise. 

"Fine. I'll stay." 

"Great!" She beamed, whisking away the box in your hands. "I'll put this down for you. Go get some rest." 

You raised a brow at her rare kindness but followed her command without thought. What harm would it bring you if you stayed one more night?

=+=+=+=+

"Y/N, YOU HAVE A CUSTOMER!" Marisa shouted, her first pounding on your door. 

You jolted out of bed and rubbed your tired eyes. Your muscles ached from lifting the heavy boxes last night, but you forced them to move. 

Yawning, you pulled on your ratty jacket and made yourself somewhat presentable for the awaiting customer. Still groggy with sleep, you dragged your feet into the living room, about to slump into a chair but Marisa was quick to catch you. 

You should have realized that her tight grip on your arm was a big red flag--no one grabbed someone like that unless they were holding them as if they were going to flee. You blamed your sleepy brain for not registering what Marisa meant by 'customer'. 

You squinted as the bright sun burned your eyes, groaning in protest as Marisa's nails dug deeper into your arm. You were about to voice your pain but a third voice, hidden behind a chrome plated helmet froze your words. 

"Is this the girl?" 

To your utmost horror, Marisa responded.

"Yes, ma'am. She tried getting away last night with her ship in the back, but I caught her." 

You--now very awake-- whipped your head up, attempting to catch Marisa's eye. "Marisa, what-"

"Here, take her."

Adrenaline shot through you as Marisa marched you towards the tall stormtrooper who stood before twenty of her men and an impressive ship, much larger than your own. You struggled in Marisa's grip and spouted nonsense, your mind sending you into panic. 

"No! Marisa!" You cried, bringing your bitten nails up to the smooth skin of her hand. You clawed at her hand and wiggled harder. "Marisa, please!"

She ignored you. The only sign of her acknowledging your existence being that of her grimace of pain as your nails punctured her skin. 

"Please! I didn't do anything to you! Please!" You attempted another time. But there was no changing her mind. 

You gulped as the stormtrooper strode closer and closer. It couldn't end like this--you wouldn't let it. 

Regaining some control over your panicking limbs, you stuck out your foot and toppled Marisa and yourself into the mud. It was enough to wrench yourself from her grip and hurdle over her body before she could catch you again. 

Various shouts were heard as you bounded in the opposite direction of your welcoming party, momentarily forgetting about the blasters each of them held. But how could you have thought of that in the spur of the moment? Your friend had just betrayed you and the rush of escape pumped through your veins. 

You regretted being born in the next second as a single fire from a blaster burned through your calf, sending you crashing to the ground. You shouted in pain, unable to register two troopers who quickly grabbed hold of both your arms and hoisted you up. 

You bit your lips as tears fell from your eyes. Marisa sneered at you as you were brought before her and the chrome stormtrooper, tasting bile in the back of your throat. You knew Marisa didn't like you, but never in a million years did you peg her as this shallow. 

"Marisa, why?" You said quietly. "I did nothing wrong." 

She let out a dry laugh, "I've hated you since we were little. Ever since your idiotic father brought you here." 

Your teeth dug harder into your lip. How were you supposed to know that?

"Marisa.."

"Goodbye, Y/N. I hope you have a quick death." 

You shouted her name as the two stormtroopers who carried your weight between them, whisked you away onto their ship. Your head strained to look behind you, your watering eyes catching a glimpse of the chrome stormtrooper handing Marisa a healthy amount of credits. You didn't know which stung more. Being betrayed or being bought like a slave. 

You didn't struggle as the two troopers dropped you unceremoniously on the cold floor of their ship and bound your hands. You winced as they jostled your injured leg--pulling more tears from your stinging eyes. 

You wished you were dead.

 


	2. Captives

"Stop sniveling."

You sniffed and brought your knee closer to your chest. The other leg lay flat, still throbbing in pain even though the wound was inflicted hours ago. At least--you thought it had been hours. You couldn't tell.

"I'll snivel if I want," you muttered in response to the chrome plated Trooper who sat in the seat by your side. Her blaster was resting in her lap, pointed at your head if you tried anything funny. Not like you would. There were twenty or more of them and only one of you.

"Don't speak," she commanded, her voice level and flat.

You wondered if she had any emotions...Or friends for that matter. Probably not.

You sighed and glanced at her blaster rifle, immediately recognizing the model and make of the gun. You had a few of these back in your workshop, but you were quick to modify them and send them on your merry way. Stealing weapons from the First Order was a tricky business.

You don't know what compelled you to speak, but your curiosity got the better of your common sense upon seeing the crack in the butt stock of her blaster.

"Hey, is that a F-11D blaster rifle?"

She said nothing,--only a little movement of her helmet towards your direction signified that she heard you.

"I've had a few of those--but never in chrome. What's the range on yours? I bet I could-"

"Need I tape your mouth shut, prisoner?"

You frowned and shut your mouth. Fine, tough crowd. No matter, she'd warm up to you eventually.

"You know your butt stock is cracked," you pipped up. "I could fix it."

She suddenly moved the end of her gun up to her eyes and easily found the crack that you spoke of.

"See? I told you," you smiled.

The smile faltered as her invisible eyes glared at you, "Do you take me for an idiot, prisoner?" 

"I don't know, I've never met you before."

The masked woman didn't respond after that, fueling your boredom. You needed to keep yourself occupied after what happened on Bakura. Or else you'd start crying again--and nobody wanted that.

"Where are we going?"

No response from the chrome Trooper or any of the others.

"Are all of you deaf, or just ordered not to speak to the people you capture?"

Again no response, just the rumble of engine jets and the occasional turbulence.

"C'mon, guys. You shot me in the fucking leg, I deserve some kind of answer."

"We're taking you aboard the  _Finalizer_ ," she sighed.

"That sounds terrifying," you snorted. "I bet it's some junky shuttle you guys call a battle ship. I bet my U-wing-"

A sharp pain exploded inside your head as the tall woman cracked the butt of her rifle against your temple. Your vision blurred as black spots dotted your vision. You groaned in pain and slumped to your side, welcoming the inky blackness of forced sleep.

=+=+=+=+

"What happened to her face?"

"The girl has a big mouth, sir."

As you came to, you were instantly greeted with a massive headache and the phantom sensation of having your ears stuffed with cotton. You kept your eyes shut as you were lifted from the icy floor of the ship and placed on some type of carrier.

"Are you sure this is the girl, Captain? I can't make another mistake regarding her," a distinctively male sounding voice said.

"Yes, I'm sure of it, General," the familiar voice of the female responded. "Her friend notified us forty-two hours ago of the girl's identity and her whereabouts. When my troops confiscated her smuggled ship, it was filled with stolen and modified weapons that have her mark on them."

"Very well," the man sighed. "Bring her to a cell. Call for me once she wakes."

You heard heavy footsteps trod in the opposite direction and then you were moving. You dared not open your eyes in fear of being interrogated by the man from before even if your insides burned with curiosity about their secret base.

Judging by the sounds of hundreds of footsteps and various intercom calls, you knew their base was anything  _but_  a junky shuttle ship.

You bit your lip in exasperation as the noise of hundreds of people faded away and replaced by the hollow sounds of empty hallways and opening doors. Your nervous energy began to eat away at your insides, tempting you to open your eyes just for a second, but guessing by the footsteps to your right and the whirring of a drone pushing you around--a Trooper accompanied you.

You risked it and opened your eyes just a sliver--catching sight of a white-clad stormtrooper and the dark design of the ship. It didn't look to grand from what you could gather, but then again, you were being placed into a cell and holding cells normally weren't decorated to impress.

You soon stopped and then heard the hissing sound of a door sliding open. You grimaced as you stopped once again and felt the grubby hands of the stormtrooper around your waist so he could roughly dump you on a bed harder than rock. You wondered if the bed  _was_  rock--it wouldn't be a surprise to you.

You waited for your prison door to slam shut and until the drone and the Trooper were out of your range of hearing. You shot up and regretted it instantly as a wave of dizziness and the increased pain to your pounding headache. You groaned and buried your head into your hands, wishing it away. Nausea tickled the back of your throat followed with the dry pastiness of your mouth. You couldn't remember the last time your drank something--most likely at Marisa's house with the pie she made.

After a minute or two passed and you had a decent amount of control over your insides, you slowly raised your head and squinted at your surroundings.

There wasn't much to look at. You sat on an uncomfortable bed with scratchy sheets dyed black in the back of the cell below a tiny window that gave you a glimpse of the galaxy. From here you could see the little sink attached to the toilet accented with black. It matched the black walls that you guessed were 9 by 12--bigger than most cells you had seen in the past.

Of course, you were sure they had smaller ones, but you supposed they thought you weren't  _that_  dangerous, so they gave you a bigger cell. You smirked. No one could hold the infamous Y/N L/N.

Your hands moved up to the pockets on your coat, patting each one of them for your tools. If you could dismember the light you could take out the wiring and possible metals to disengage the door.

You patted around harder, panicking once you felt nothing but air.  _Shit_.

You sighed and slumped back dramatically. They searched you.  _Obviously_. These people were the First fucking Order, not a band of erratic smugglers that needed to settle scores. No way would they leave you with potential weapons.

You sniffed and threw yourself over your hard bed, carefully maneuvering your injured leg to rest on the cold blankets. It didn't hurt as bad now, but it throbbed to the point of tears when you moved it too aggressively or bumped it against something. You half wished a medic would come down here and treat it for you, but at the same time you were content to be left in solitude. 

At least when you were alone you weren't afraid of getting shot and ejected into space.

You sighed and threw your arm over your eyes, blocking out the artificial light. You were bored and had no easy option for escape. Without your tools you couldn't do shit and you, with the current state of your leg, could barely walk--let alone run.

You could sleep and wait for the man to drop by, but that scared you shitless so you avoided any thought directly related that.

You thought about your abandoned shipments you owed instead and frowned. Maybe your buyers would come looking for you after they realize you went missing. Though, you doubted it. Most of your clients were smugglers and Resistance fighters--they preferred not to stick out their necks for some stranger. The Resistance might, but that was a far fetch. You weren't that valuable-- a point proved many times over the years.

You thought of Marisa...you wondered what she was doing now; if she felt any shred of guilt about what she did. Most likely not. Marisa never was a compassionate person and only invested in things that benefited her. You should have never of showed up at her door two years ago...

Your eyes snapped open as your ears picked up muffled voices outside your door. You curiously sat up and furrowed your brows as the little red light on the keypad turned green. The heavy door slid open with a hiss and a tall man, dressed in a pristine, sleek black uniform, with fiery red hair stepped into your cell.

You gulped at the sharp, impassive look he gave you. His glacial blue eyes looked you up and down from head to toe, lingering on your blood soaked pant leg and the bruised cut on your temple. You had the notion he was the judge-y type. 

"I  _thought_  you said the girl was not harmed, save for her head," he said accusingly over his shoulder. You recognized his voice from before and stiffened slightly.

"The prisoner tried to run, sir," a male Trooper responded outside the door.

"So getting shot in the leg isn't a welcome gift? Huh..who would'a thought," you snarked, cursing your stupid mouth for not staying shut. This wasn't the time nor place for your sarcasm.

The man's icy eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, his leather boots clicking against the polished floor. You bit your tongue and stopped yourself from saying anything else.

"So you're the infamous Y/N L/N," he said, clasping his gloved hands behind his back.

"One and only," you shrugged. "But, you know, you'd be surprised how many Y/Ns I've met throughout the years. Popular name I guess."

He stayed silent.

"What's your name? I bet it's something creepy like...like Mike or Jon without an H. Yeah, you definitely look like a Jon without an H. Or maybe a Kyle? Kyles are always weird."

You watched the end of his pursed mouth twitch. You couldn't tell if he wanted to smile or grimace. You guessed the latter after seeing the annoyed flair in his eye. You guessed this guy rarely met someone who spoke back to him like you did. You personally were never one for authority but this dude probably  _breathed_  it.

"Do you know  _why_  you're here aboard the  _Finalizer_ , Miss L/N?" he asked, ignoring your previous words.

Fine, two could play at that game you mused.

"Have I been personally selected for an exclusive tour? My favorite part so far has been these  _lovely_  silk sheets."

"You're  _here,_ because you--"

"Yeah, yeah, Jon without an H," you interrupted. "I've got somewhere to be now, so if you could just--you know--let me go, that'd be great."

A muscle fluttered in his clenched jaw. You smirked and crossed your arms under your breasts, waiting for his next words.

"If you must know," he began, hardening his stare. "my name is  _not_  Jon without an H."

"Alright, Kyle."

He brought a black gloved hand to pinch the bridge of his thin nose. You heard him mutter something under his breath and sigh loudly.

"I am not here to play games," he said.

"Oh, good, me either."

He squinted at your smug face and paused for a moment before speaking, carefully picking out his words this time.

"We've had you on our radar for a awhile, Miss L/N. After your theft of First Order property from our dropships and various TIE fighters, you were comparable to a ghost. I am surprised your recklessness hadn't exposed you earlier."

You shrugged, "What can I say, Kyle? I'm good at what I do."

"Yes," he agreed, ignoring your name you gave him. "Though, as impressed as we were with your little stunts--your certain skill set interests us more."

You scoffed, "They weren't 'little stunts',  _Kyle_. I think they were  fuckin'  _huge_  stunts."

"Very well," he sighed. If he weren't so proper you could imagine his blue eyes rolling so far back into his skull that they'd disappear. You could call yourself impressed by the amount of patience he had--most people would've already shot you or let you go by now. "Your skill set--"

"What about it?"

"We think it would be a welcome asset for the First Order. Recently our current weapons don't live up to those of the Resistance. I'm sure you are aware why."

Of course you knew why. The Resistance were some of your best customers.

"So?"

"Our weapon specialist and the manufactures we buy from are not as gifted as you are. You make things a man would drool over."

"And?" You said, raising a brow. You knew this already. Your modifications could outgun anything a stupid industry could dish out. You also knew what this guy wanted. This wasn't the first time you had been offered a job.

Yet, your personal morals barred you from working for the Resistance  _or_  the First Order. It was bad for business if you chose a political side. Of course, you didn't agree with anything the First Order had to say, but you also had a personal grudge with a few of the Resistance fighters. You would think being kidnapped by X-Wing pilots was all fun and games\--but in reality it sucked.

"Pledge yourself to the First Order," he said, a prideful spark in his baritone words. "With your weapons we can surely conquer the Galaxy."

You winced.

"Right..." you coughed. "I don't know how to put this lightly,  _Kyle_...but..I'm not about eternal glory and all that jazz."

"You could earn your freedom."

You raised a brow and snorted, "Who says I need to work my way out of this? For all you know, my friends could be on their way to save me, Kyle."

A dangerous smirk pulled at the redhead's lips. You swallowed and forced your rising nerves down.

"Correct me If I am wrong, Miss L/N," he purred, "but I don't think you have many friends. After all, one of them  _did_  hand you over without a second thought."

You chewed your bottom lip, suddenly lost for words. That was a low blow. He knew it too by the look on his angular features.  _Bastard_.

"No one will be coming for you," he hummed. "Might as well make yourself useful."

You scowled and looked away, glaring into the corner of your cell. Why would you ever work for people like them? You knew people who were murdered by them and taken hostage and tortured for information. They stood for fear and violence--two factors that didn't exactly appeal to you.

"No words?" He jeered.

The man then turned on his heel and held up a keycard to the locked door, the little light turning green once more.

Just as it slid open you spoke, remembering your limb, "My leg.."

He peered over his shoulder, "A medic will be down shortly"

The door slid shut behind him, enveloping you in silence.

=+=+=+=+

True to his word, 'Kyle' sent you a medic a while later. She was a young woman, a few years older than yourself but had no interest in having a chat. The brunette worked silently and peeled up your pant leg that stuck to your damaged calf, unaffected by the disgusting sight of festering skin. You glanced down at it once and gagged.

The shot ripped straight through the back of your calf and out through your shin and left a gaping hole. Blackened and blistering red that seeped blood surrounded the wound and stung once the cold air brushed over it. You bit back a scream as the medic slapped on a bacta pad on each side and wrapped it tightly with white gauze. Your were biting down on your knuckles so hard from the pain that you forgot to thank her as she left.

The following hours were filled with nightmares once you fell asleep. Countless times you woke up frozen half to death and the little blanket they provided did nothing against the chill. The thought of asking for another one made you grimace. You wanted nothing from these people--you just wanted to go home--wherever that was.

The third time you woke, your leg felt as if someone had doused it in jet fuel and set it ablaze. Embarrassingly, you checked to make sure there wasn't a match being held under you calf. There wasn't.

After that, it was impossible to fall back asleep.

You yawned and rubbed your eyes, your mind trying to figure out ways to end the endless boredom you felt since coming here. You debated striking up conversation with the stormtrooper outside your door but thought better of it. You were more likely to get an answer from the toilet than the Trooper. Yet, that didn't mean you couldn't try.

Using the wall as a crutch you half hobbled half jumped towards the airlocked door. You strained your eyes to see past the glass and found your victim standing alert on your left. They looked nervous based on the way they gripped their gun as tight as they could and how they turned their head left and right every two seconds. You smirked--this would be  _easy_.

You raised your knuckles, still bloody from punching the wall, and gave the glass a tap. You swore the Trooper jumped five feet in the air.

"Oh please," you laughed rolling your eyes. "I'm hardly worth pissing your pants for."

The Trooper's masked stare met yours. You smiled and waved. The Trooper only gripped their blaster tighter making you sigh.

"I'm guessing they told you how terrifying and awful I am, huh? Well, didn't your momma ever teach you that rumors aren't always true?"

Your new friend didn't answer and turned to face the opposite wall again, thoroughly spooked by your presence.

"Right..." you continued. "What's your name? My name is Y/N L/N and apparently I'm a ruthless killer who knows no mercy."

You were about to give up all hope for your new friend after a long silence, but a sudden, barely audible voice replied.

"FN-2187."

"Well that's a shit name," you snorted. "I'll just call you FN I guess..."

No answer.

"Ok, FN. We'll start out with the basics--what's your favorite color? Mine's razzmatazz\--brings out my eyes."

He shifted uncomfortably.

"Hm..I think you're more of a navy blue kind of guy, razzmatazz is a bit bold for you I think-"

" _I'm not supposed to talk to you_ ," he hissed out suddenly, throwing a glance back your way, " _and I don't know what razzmatazz is_."

"What?" You gasped dramatically. "How could you not know what razzmatazz is?!"

"Stop saying that word," he ordered, raising his voice  _just_  above a whisper.

"What word?"

"You know what word."

"Razzmatazz?" You grinned, feigning innocence. "But it's such a fun word to say!"

"I don't think it's fun."

"Well, I do, and I shall say it to my heart's content," you sniffed.

"You talk too much," you heard him mutter. "I thought you were the easy prisoner."

" _FN,_ " you huffed. "I am offended! Easy prisoner? Is that all you think of me?"

He stepped in front of your cell, facing you fully through the little pane of glass you saw through. You flashed him a wicked smile.

"Do you wear that helmet all day and night or do you take it off when you sleep and eat? I'm curious," you asked.

The Trooper stepped closer and pointed a finger at you, "I will  _not_  get in trouble for talking to an annoying little girl. Go sit down."

"Little girl?" You snickered, quirking a brow. "Out of all the insults in the universe you chose 'little girl'? I'm shaking in my boots, FN."

"Shut up," he ordered halfheartedly, his shoulders slumping in embarrassment. "It was the best I had okay?"

You shrugged and raised your hands up, "Alright, alright, no need to get your undies in a twist."

"My undies aren't in a twist, thank you. I ironed them last night."

"Ew, ok," you said, scrunching up your face in distaste. "You're weird."

"Then what does that make you?" He bit back.

"Perfectly normal," you hummed, flashing him a toothy grin.

He scowled and returned to his earlier place on the wall, deliberately ignoring you.

"I'm sorry, geez," you smiled, biting your lip to contain your giggles. "I didn't know you Troopers cared so much about your underwear."

He ignored you again.

"Fine, fine, I'll stop talking," you sighed, rolling your eyes. "I still wanna know what your favorite color is though..."

"FN-2187."

The icy coolness of a certain female made you jump and FN stiffen. You hurriedly hobbled over to your bed and threw your blanket over your shoulders--faking sleep.

"Captain Phasma," your new friend responded.

"Your watch duty is over. Report to the General regarding the girl and then retire to your bunkers. I expect you to return tomorrow at 0600 sharp."

"Yes, Captain," your friend replied, his footsteps soon fading away.

You weren't sure why, but his departure made sort of sad...Eh, whatever. He was just some stupid stormtrooper that you couldn't care less about.

You sniffed and shut your eyes, pulling the scratchy blanket tighter around you.

Captivity wasn't so bad...  


=+=

The next day you were given a tray with one piece of stale bread and a lukewarm glass of water. Though, neither the rock hard food nor the water was what caught your interest.

What  _did_ , was a little slip of paper stuck to the bottom of your glass. You opened it curiously and smiled once you read it;

_My favorite color is green~_


	3. Job Offers?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get a job and a fancy new outfit ;)

"How do you  _eat_ this stuff?" You grumbled out, poking at your diner.

This was your third day in jail, and your best friend 'Kyle' hadn't had the courtesy of paying you a visit. You weren't accepting his offer of course, but you'd think your captor would visit you at  _least_  one more time before tossing you into space or leaving you to rot.

In all honesty you were beginning to think that getting ejected into the vacuum of space was a better option than being fed gross and nasty stale food. Plus, you stank and your hair was beyond greasy... It could have been worse, you thought. At least they haven't served you moldy food. You shuddered and tossed the tray into the air. It clattered on the floor and flipped, successfully landing the food on the dirty ground.

"If you break that tray, I'll get blamed for it," your friend, FN, warned.

"I'm hoping it'll shatter and the shards will slice my throat."

FN spun around and peered inside, though all he saw was you lounging lazily on your rock-like bed. You quirked a brow at the Trooper.

"It was a joke," you huffed, rolling your eyes. "You know what a joke is, right?"

"I  _know_  what a joke is."

You nodded and shrugged, unconvinced. You were pretty sure stormtroopers were publicly executed for laughing--but whatever.

You sighed and lightly scratched your wound. It was starting to get itchy and that boring medic hadn't come back to change your bacta pads. You wanted to yank them off yourself, but you knew better than that. Getting an infection on a First Order battleship was not on your bucket list.

"What happened to your leg?" FN questioned. You forgot he still peered inside your cell like you were some kind of zoo animal.

"I thought you weren't supposed to talk to me," you said, pulling down your ruined pant leg further down your limb. You were never one for sob stories.

"I'm not. Tell me what happened."

"You're curious today, FN," you sighed, scratching your chin.

"I just want to...to help."

Your brows furrowed. You gave him and odd look and propped your elbow on your good leg, hand cradling your chin.

"A stormtrooper wants to help  _me?_ A coldblooded criminal hellbent on destroying anything in my path?" You hummed sarcastically. "Why do I find that strange?"

"We're not all that bad, you know," he retorted sharply.

You shrugged, "I'm sure. You just follow orders, right? Well, I did too once and it landed me in some shit a few years ago. The whole pack mentality thing is a killer, FN."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't I?"

The Trooper refused to respond and ignored you for the remainder of the hour. You were happy he left you alone so he could sulk. He deserved it.

You scratched your calf again.

_Stars_  it itched.

You wondered if that was normal. You couldn't remember having to use bacta pads in the past so you were left to ponder over whether you were okay with losing a leg.

You paused and studied it.

No. No were absolutely  _not_  okay with loosing your leg because you were denied medical attention.

You violently yanked up your pant leg and then ripped away the white gauze, gathering it in your fist. You then carefully peeled away the white bacta pads and winced as they ripped away a layer of skin with it.

You gagged at the horrendous sight. It looked worse than three days ago in your opinion. The flesh was now blistering more than it had been, and although the charred tissue was minimal thanks to the healing properties of the bacta pads, you knew it would scar heavily. And that was only the skin around the gaping hole.

If you wanted to you could fit three fingers through the hole! Even the bone was gone!

You swore and banged your head back against the wall. How were you going to fix this? How were you supposed to walk, let alone  _run_ with this?

Sure, you could wait for months on end for it to heal, but you weren't one hundred percent certain you'd be able to put pressure on your limb if there was a hole in your shin. You knew bone grew back if you broke a bone, but getting a blaster shot through it?

"General Hux, sir," you heard FN callout suddenly.

You jumped and squinted at the door. Through the little pane of glass you could see a glimpse of a pristine black uniform and a streak of red hair.

_Fucking finally..._

"Anything to report?"

"No, sir," FN responded. "But-"

You grimaced as he paused. You hoped he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut about your joke. You didn't mean it, you just had a terrible sense of humor.

"But what? I don't have time for soldiers who can't form sentences. Speak up."

"It was nothing, sir. She likes to talk, sir."

You snorted. Thank the Maker the boy had a high enough IQ.

"Yes, I'm aware. Open the door."

The door slid open and revealed your  _best_  friend;  _Kyle._

"Kyle!" You said, plastering a grin on your face. "I was wondering when you'd show up. I thought you forgot about me."

"Have you considered my offer?" He sighed, straightening his back as if to make himself bigger.

"Is that your last name? Hux? Kyle Hux," you hummed, tapping your chin with your finger. "Has a nice ring to it."

"Kyle is a hideous name," he replied straight-faced, clasping his black gloved hands behind his back.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Kyle," you chuckled. "You don't see me insulting my name, do you?"

His eyes glared into yours that glittered with humor.

"I asked you a question. I have business to attend to and if you plan to waste my time I will return in a week."

"Aw, don't be like that," you pouted, puffing out your bottom lip. "I was just joking."

"My question."

"Right, right," you exhaled loudly, your mind abruptly coming up with an idea to fix your leg. "...I'm wondering about the benefits."

"What benefits?"

"You know, like, am I getting paid? Can I leave when I want? Stuff like that," you listed, watching the end of his lip twitch. If this worked you'd be out of here by next Sunday.

"We can discuss pay if you agree," he stated, blue irises drifting down to your open wound. His lip curled in disgust.

"No offense, Kyle--but I don't invest myself into things if I don't know what I'm getting myself into."

His jaw clenched.

"Hundreds of people are currently competing for the position I am offering you."

You snorted, "Then why haven't you hired one of them?"

"One of you is worth fifty of them; I've seen your work, Miss L/N."

You blanked and worried your lip. That was an overstatement. You were more comparable to a bantha than this guy's trainees or whatever they were. Yet, his comment was appreciated.

You sighed. On one hand you would be ditching your morals to do what you loved for the wrong reasons and on the other hand, you would get medical attention for your leg, possible pay, and hopefully better meals. You weren't positive on how long you could survive in this little cell with this kind of 'gourmet' food. There was also the looming possibility that if you refused, you would wind up dead in the morning.

You sighed heavily and nodded.

"Fine, I'll do it," you muttered, scowling at the smug face he pulled.

"Fantastic. I'll send for you tomorrow," he said, striding back the way he came. "Until then--enjoy your last night here."

"Wait, what?" You shouted, trying to hop onto one leg. "No, no, no, no--don't make me stay here!"

The door slid shut and the man never looked back once it closed. You groaned and slumped against your bed. Tomorrow was too far away.

"You took his offer?" FN asked through the door after your minute long groan of despair.

"Yeah," you said. "I'll finally be out of your hair. Wait--do you even have hair?"

"Yes I have hair," he answered. "You must be a genius if Hux personally asked you to work for him."

"I'm not, but thanks," you exhaled. "All I do is fix blasters and make bombs--anyone could do that."

"Yeah but you're good at it. Crazy good at it."

"Right..."

"It's true," he continued. "I hear the higher-ups talk about you sometimes."

"There are a lot of Y/Ns, FN," you huffed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"You're the only Y/N I've met."

You rolled your eyes, "Thanks for the pep talk, FN, but I'm not concerned about my skills. I'm just upset that I gave up basic morality codes so I could fix my damn leg."

"Maybe it won't be so bad..." FN reasoned. "I mean...I'll be able to talk to you."

"You  _are_  talking to me," you said.

"Yeah, but, I won't be breaking regulations."

Fair point.

You didn't admit it but, the thought of that sounded quite nice.

=+=

The next morning you were pleasantly surprised by your favorite medic, and by pleasant you meant terrible, horrific, and ghastly. You could go on but then you would end up staying another whole day and night. You cringed at the thought.

The medic, or Snow Queen as you've named her, ever so rudely shook you awake and pulled your leg into the air. She slapped two bacta pads on your injury and wrapped it again, apparently forgetting that blaster wounds usually hurt and one should be careful treating them.

The brunette then handed you a pair of crutches and hoisted you up with ease, scanning her keycard so you could follow her from your cell. You never looked back and had to refrain yourself from breaking into a full on sprint.

Worried the medic might tackle you to the ground for increasing your speed, you languidly followed her pace and admired the decor. Kinda creepy and boring, but you could work with it. You've seen worse.

You sighed as the woman led you down countless hallways and turns until your head became dizzy by trying to remember and map everything out. It all looked the same to you.

She abruptly stopped after another long empty hallway and after a left turn. You could hear the murmur of various voices from where you stood and wondered what the room up ahead held. Probably a control room of some sort based on what you could see from here. If you craned your neck enough you could see a few people seated at workstations and large glass panels that displayed the vastness of the galaxy. You hoped your workstation would look like that..

You waited for a while, almost an hour before a certain red-head dressed in black sauntered down the hallway to where you and your medic stood.

"You're dismissed, Freida," he ordered the medic, eyeing her with his normal glare.

You medic, Freida, left without protest and vanished behind a corner. You wished you could walk that fast.

"Y/N."

"Kyle," you mocked, smirking.

A muscle in his jaw fluttered yet his exterior visage didn't falter.

"I'll be showing you to your quarters," he said tightly. "There you will find a uniform the Order has provided and then I shall show you to your duties."

"Uniform? Duties?" You scoffed. "Uhg."

Hux's nostrils flared but refrained from answering, "Come."

It was a struggle keeping up with his long, fast paced strides, but somehow you managed. You passed people this time in the  _Finalizer's_  maze like halls, unlike you trek with Freida. Though, the black uniformed men and women were much too busy to pay you or Hux any mind, their heads buried in their datapads.

You passed the occasional stormtrooper as well, your eyes studying the helmets, hoping you could figure out if one of them was FN. The task was impossible but you amused yourself doing it. It also took your mind off the fact that your leg was on fire even though hadn't been using it. You swore you felt the burnt skin crack and bleed each time you moved.

It felt as if you had walked miles upon miles before reaching your destination. Plus the various sealed doors the General had to scan and punch in codes for, further decreased your patience.

Wasn't there, like, a bench or something you could sit on for a moment? The obvious answer was a no but a girl could dream and you dreamed of sitting down.

You came across the last sealed door out of three and this time you were stopped. You groaned internally as the officer or whatever he was, confirmed 'Kyle's' identity. You on the other hand, were a different story as you tried to follow the General into the dark corridor behind the doors.

"Sir, if I may ask," the prim man with black hair slicked back against his skull said, "who is this woman?"

If looks could kill the man would have crumbled into dust and vacuumed up by a droid. The General's lips pursed, his brows lowering in a deathly glare.

"Have you no manners, Lieutenant Kayle?" the redhead said dryly, making the tips of Lieutenant Kayle's ears flush. "I notified you of Y/N L/N scheduled arrival for today the previous night, did I not?"

"Yes sir," he said quietly, his black eyes darting to your smirking features. "It-it must have slipped my mind."   
  


"Slipped your mind?" The General repeated. "You have an incredibly easy job, Lieutenant."

The grown man blushed and lowered his eyes in shame.

_Yikes_ , you thought, Kyle was ruthless...

"Hm," the General snorted. "You will be relieved of your duties and will be joining the janitorial squad. Next time when you receive an order from your General you will do your best to not let it 'slip from your mind'."

You could physically feel the shame radiating off the poor lieutenant, but the General whisked you off before you could give him a reassuring pat on the arm.

"Janitorial squad? That's a bit cruel don't you think, Kyle?" You laughed awkwardly, eyeing the back of his head. "I mean-"

"Insubordination and failure to complete simple tasks will not be tolerated on this base. If I see it fit to place an incompetent lieutenant on janitorial duty--then I shall," he interrupted, casting an annoyed glare over his shoulder.

"Ok, ok," you sighed. "I get it."

The General gave you an apathetic glance then stopped before a black colored door. You swung yourself closer and curiously peered around his torso as he punched in a sequence of numbers. The little red light on the number pad beeped and flashed green, causing the door to slide open.

You followed him in and gasped.

Never in your lifetime had you seen something so beautiful. The starkly furnished room was a decent size, larger than any room you had ever stayed in and had a bed in it. A bed! No flimsy cot, and no hard slab of metal.

You ignored 'Kyle's' inquisitive stare caused by your strange behavior and hobbled over to the fancy black leather chair for the matching desk a few feet away from the queen sized bed. You reached out to trail your fingers across the sleek material and grinned. Leather,  _real_  leather.

You couldn't even comprehend the rest of the room after that. You had a kitchenette and even your own bathroom with a mirror and everything! You could happily die now.

You caught yourself fawning over the furniture and stopped immediately after a small cough from the General gained your attention. Once he had it, he strode over to the wardrobe, taller than him, and opened it with a flourish.

"You are provided with two sets of your new uniform. You are expected to keep it in acceptable condition," the man pulled out a jet black uniform that made your inner diva scream. It was  _perfect._

Though, there was just one itty bitty issue...

You frowned and raised a brow, shifting your weight on your crutches, "Are you fucking serious? I work with explosives and blasters..That thing'll be destroyed in a hot second."

"Foul language will not be tolerated," he huffed, replacing the outfit. He carefully shut the wardrobe and straightened his back. "As for the uniform; what would you suggest?"

"Uh," you blinked, surprised he actually agreed. "I dunno. I had this jumpsuit I would sometimes wear back-"

You stopped yourself before you could say  _home_. Marisa's house wasn't your home anymore.

"Done," he agreed, squinting ever so slightly at the tiny frown that lined your lips. "I'll have it sent up shortly."

"Great, can't wait," you sighed, pushing a stray hair behind your ear. You swallowed as an awkward silence settled over the room. "Uh, you can leave now, unless this is some sick joke. If it is, I'm suing."

"You can't sue the First Order," the General scoffed.

"Watch me," you challenged, your signature smirk returning. "Now, toodle-oo,  _Kyle_!"

The man didn't need any more urging and stalked out of your room, a scowl present on his features.

You sighed once he left and wandered over to the bed, unceremoniously draping yourself over the black comforter. You wanted to use the refresher before General Ginger came back with your jumpsuit--but the bed felt so lovely after those horrendous nights in space jail. You yawned and closed your eyes, shrugging off the consequences of falling asleep. You would worry about that later...  
  
  


=+=

General Hux returned after a mere thirty minutes with the jumpsuits. Normally, he never did any personal favors for anyone, but somehow he felt he needed to sway you over to his side of things. After all, an unhappy employee--or rather detainee--led to problems and he had no time for problems.

Especially regarding you...letting you near the very tools you used to create weapons of mass destruction was a gamble. So, naturally he had to keep you somewhat pleased or else he might find himself and this whole ship blown to pieces.

He sighed to himself and pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb as he reached your door. Mentally preparing himself for your probable onslaught of quick-witted words, he punched in the access code and stepped in expecting to find you fully awake.

You were dead asleep, legs hanging off the side of the bed--your crutches decorating the clean gray carpet. Hux scoffed at your lack of cleanliness. Perhaps while you worked under him he would teach you a few lessons upon the matter.

He circled the side of your bed and dumped the neatly folded jumpsuits on your barren desk, eyeing your odd sleeping position. Hux wondered how anyone could fall asleep like that. It hurt his back just looking at you.

Hux muttered a curse to himself and begrudgingly waltzed over to your legs and grabbed your ankles. He carefully swung your legs on to the mattress and glared at your unconscious form that hadn't stirred.

You were devastatingly strange and had absolutely no respect for authority. A very rare thing to come across in the First Order. It was instantly stomped out if it was an issue, though with you he wasn't sure if it  _was_  possible to crush your fire.

He sighed and stalked out of your new quarters. You would learn how to become complacent--Hux would make sure of that. But for now, he wanted to see how long it took for that said fire to fizzle out and die.

After all...he was a patient man.


End file.
